Faith in Nothing
by Faux Fox
Summary: My response to the KAEX challenge of Faith. DotU era. AU. Allura is forced against her will to be the prize in a tournament.


**Disclaimer:** I do not own Voltron or any of it's characters.

 _*I was on vacation when this challenge was set on the KAEX group. I was going to try and do a sweet short story for the Faith prompt, but then a couple nights later this popped into my head. Now that I'm home I had to get this done. I'm not sure I'm happy with it, but it wouldn't leave me alone.*_

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Coran sat at the ornate hardwood table, hands gripping the head of his cane tightly. His eyes swept over the assembled Lords and Ladies of the High Council. "I don't see how pushing things, and in **this** manner will help anything. I have faith that the Princess will choose a husband in her own time."

Next to him, Queen Orla voiced her agreement. "My niece has the spirit of a fighter, much like her father did. She will not take kindly to this interference in her life."

Lord Argos, head of the High Council, gave out a small snort of derision. "It's been eight months since Doom fell and peace settled across the far galaxy. In all that time the Princess has shown zero interest in any courting attempts made to her. Every time the Council has tried to question her about it, she makes excuses and runs off or changes the subject."

Pinching the bridge of his nose, the Lord let out a deep sigh. "Frankly, I'm getting rather tired of it. Arus needs her to produce an heir. We can't have lesser nobility and their sons fighting over the thrown of the planet."

Loud murmurs of accent rose from the other nobles seated at the table.

With a grimace, Coran stared at Lord Argos. "I really wish you'd reconsider. She's still a young girl with plenty of time to fulfill her duty. She's only just turned twenty. She is still learning her heart and afraid to act upon what it tells her."

Argus leveled a stony look at Coran. "I know you see the Princess as a daughter and she sees you as a surrogate father, but you are still only the Royal Advisor and Regent. Her youth is a hindrance at the moment. She lacks the maturity to do what her world needs her to do and you condone her behavior. What her 'heart' wants is irrelevant."

The Lord swept his hand in an embracing arc over the assembled royals. "Therefor this Council's decision stands. We will hold a tournament for the Princess' hand in marriage. Which ever man is strong enough to claim the win will have proven himself strong enough to hold the planet."

The sound of a gavel hitting wood signaled the end of the meeting. The nobles rose from their seats and made their way out of the chamber until only Coran and Orla remained at the elegant table.

Resting her hand over one of Coran's white knuckles, Queen Orla let out a deep breath. "You did your best on arguing against the Council. They are a bunch of stubborn old mules, not caring of Allura's feelings."

She gave his hand a gentle squeeze. "I'll break the news to her so you don't have to."

Coran shook his head. "No. It is my duty to tell her, to help her prepare herself mentally for this ordeal they are putting her through. She's already had enough to deal with in her short life. I'm not going to let her go through it alone."

Orla graced him with a small smile. "She will not be alone. I'll stay to help her. Plus she has her friends as well."

Brows furrowing in deep thought, Coran contemplated ways to turn the situation around into their favor. An idea flashed through his head. Just a small inkling of a thought. He'd have to consider more on it.

He stood with the help of his cane and offered Orla his free arm. "I do believe it's time to inform Allura of the Council's decision."

Nodding, she took his arm and they strode from the chamber and down the halls.

 **o-o-o-o-o**

Princess Allura was sitting with Pidge and Hunk in the lounge that the Voltron Force had commandeered as their own personal space. They were currently playing a game of charades with the mice.

Laughs of merriment drifted out into the hallway to greet Coran and Orla as they stepped into the room.

Coran cleared his throat, drawing attention to them.

With a bright smile Allura turned to her aunt and advisor. "How did the Council meeting go? I know those Lords can be so stuffy."

The advisor gave her a grim look. "We need to talk, Princess."

A jolt of worry flooded Allura. "What happened?"

Coran closed his eyes and took in a deep breath, steeling himself. He slowly opened his eyes and met the gaze of the Princess. "The High Council has deemed that you have not found a husband fast enough for their liking. They've decided to enact a little used law to marry you off."

Shock and anger warred within Allura. "I'm a living, breathing person, not just some commodity that they can hand off to their choice of the shallow princes and nobles. I deserve better than that. The people of Arus deserve better than that. I will only marry someone that has the needs of the people foremost in his mind, not some jerk just looking for power to abuse!"

Not letting his gaze slip, Coran nodded agreement. "Both Queen Orla and I argued against them to no avail. They have declared that there will be a tournament held in a weeks time with your hand as the prize."

Allura grew silent for a moment. "What type of tournament?"

Stepping up to her niece, Queen Orla took her hands. She gave them a sympathetic squeeze. "It's purely combat. Fists and swords."

Coran finally looked away and out the window. "Lord Argos has recently recalled his son back to Arus from the planet he'd been living on to keep him from any danger of the war with Doom. I know that he had his son taught extensively in combat arts, even if he would never risk him in actual battle. Lord Argos is surely jockeying to have his son become King."

Pidge stood up, hands fisted at his sides and trembling with anger. "That's not fair. We did all the work and now some spoiled rich kid is going sweep in and try and take everything away from the Princess."

Hunk was beside him in an instant, nodding in agreement. "That's right. These nobles were off hiding while the people suffered from Zarkon and Lotor. How can they just march back here and be allowed to run roughshod over the Princess?"

Orla looked over at the two pilots in gratitude. "It has never set well with me that all the other nobles fled the planet, leaving it to it's demise. And now that we are at peace again and rebuilding, they want everything back. It is blatant dereliction of their royal duties. They should be stripped of their noble titles and lands."

Allura eyed her aunt. "Is there a way to do that?"

With a smile, Queen Orla nodded, but it was Coran who spoke. "Yes, but, only a King or Queen can do it. So it doesn't do us much good in the present situation. We can only hope that whomever wins this tournament is sympathetic to our cause and the people."

Worry creased Allura's brow. "Isn't there some thing that can be done to get me out of this?"

Coran gave her a look of sympathy. "Unfortunately no."

He stalled her cry of protest with a hand. "However. The council seems to have forgotten that a tournament of this type is open to everyone, be they commoner or noble birth. I'm sure there will be plenty of competition. So many of the men have extensive combat experience. We will just have to have faith that one of them will win."

Pulling her hands from her aunt, Allura dropped her head. Tears shimmered in her eyes. "I think I want to be alone in my room for a while."

She swiftly crossed the floor and was out of the lounge before anyone could speak again to her.

Coran shook his head. "I must speak with Nanny and make a few plans. I'll see you at dinner."

As Coran made his way down the corridor, he thought about the idea he'd had earlier. It wasn't a sure thing, but was close enough. From any way he looked at it, it was the best chance for Allura and the planet. He would just need to get Nanny's agreement on it. Her help would be invaluable. Perhaps Dr Gorma as well. Just the few of them knowing and sworn to secrecy. It wouldn't do to let anyone guess at the trump card they were going to play.

 **o-o-o-o-o**

Nanny scowled in rage at Coran. "WHAT! I forbid it! How could you even think of such a thing?"

The advisor pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration. "Nanny, will you please calm down and really think about it for a moment. Look at what the options really are. This is the best choice for Arus and the Princess to be happy."

The look Nanny was giving the advisor could have won the war against Doom. Finally she sat down thinking over everything.

Coran waited patiently. He knew this could take a while.

Finally Nanny looked up at him with calm eyes and sighed. "I know you're right. I think I'm just having a hard time coming to terms with the fact that my little Allura has grown up. Everything with this tournament being so out of our control makes me feel like I've failed her as a governess. I'll help in every way I can."

Giving her a nod, Coran moved towards the door. "I'll need you to acquire a few things. If everything goes well, I'll give you the list tomorrow morning. Dr Gorma will also be privy to this plan as there is a chance his services will be needed. Please make sure that no one else even suspects."

 **o-o-o-o-o**

Coran left Dr Gorma's office with a bit lighter of a heart. The good doctor had readily agreed to help with the plan. Now the final part had to be settled.

Stepping into the private dining room, he was greeted with the sight of a weeping Princess being comforted by her aunt. Keith and Lance were having an irate discussion with the rest of the team.

Seeing the advisor enter, Lance turned his anger towards him. "Is this some kind of cruel joke, Coran? You can't seriously be letting them do this to the Princess!"

Holding up his hand in truce, Coran bowed his head. "I did not have any choice and fought against it. That doesn't mean that I think they are right."

Keith narrowed his eyes. "There has got to be something we can do. None of those spoiled little rich boys even think of the Princess as a person."

The advisor let out a sigh. "I'm truly sorry, but our hands are tied. The best we can do is have a little faith that everything will turn out for the best."

Still grumbling, the pilots sat down at the table as Coran took his own spot.

Tension ran high during the meal. Everyone could feel it and hurried to finish so they could find some task to take their mind off of things.

As Keith began to rise from the table, Coran caught his attention. "Commander, I need you to please meet with me in my study in half a hour so we can go over security for the Tournament."

The dark haired pilot gave him a curt nod of assent and stormed out of the room.

 **o-o-o-o-o**

The week passed to quickly for those in the Castle. It seemed there was much to do and very little time to do it.

To make matters worse, Lord Argos' son, Timpel, had taken to calling on the Princess daily. She suffered stoically through the visits, then would break down in tears the minute he was gone. After a few days Coran was able to diplomatically call an end to the visits, much to the Princess' relief, claiming that it could be seen as favoritism.

Breakfast of the dreaded day was very quiet. Allura sat withdrawn into herself and even the mice were unable to coax a smile to her face.

Orla watched her niece in concern, but all she could do was be there and support her.

The Voltron pilots stewed in their own thoughts and picked at their food.

As the meal finished, Coran stood and cleared his throat. "Lance, you are to accompany the Princess everywhere she goes today as her personal bodyguard. Hunk and Pidge, I want you two at the participant ready room. You're to stop any fights that break out. Keith will be monitoring everything from Castle Control in case there is an emergency."

Lance frowned. "I can direct everything if Keith wishes to attend."

The Voltron commander shot him a look. "No, Lance. It's best if I'm not seen there."

He glanced towards Allura, meeting her gaze for a moment. Just long enough to see the pain that flashed across her face.

Looking away he stood stiffly. "I have duties to attend to. Hopefully I'll see everyone this evening."

He paused to address the governess. "Nanny, I need your input on a staff matter."

"Of course, Commander." She gave him a curt nod and followed him from the room.

 **o-o-o-o-o**

The crowd parted solemnly for the Princess and her entourage as they made their way to the makeshift Tournament grounds.

Allura smiled and nodded to the gathered crowd as they passed.

The Princess let out an ill concealed sigh of relief when they finally made it to the door of the private viewing box that had been built just for her.

The relief was short lived when the door was opened to reveal Lord Argos grinning smugly at Allura. "My dear Princess Allura. How lovely to see you today."

Eyes hardening at the sight of the man, Allura still managed to smile. "Greetings Lord Argos. I'm afraid I'm not able to entertain any guests today. The excitement of the day has me distracted."

She politely and firmly waved towards the door, making her dismissal obvious. "Perhaps some other time when there aren't such distractions."

Argos scowled as he removed himself from the booth. He turned just on the other side to look back at Allura. "Of course, Princess. I'm sure we will be getting much closer acquainted later."

Anything else he was about to say was cut off as Lance casually shut the door.

The Red Lion pilot rolled his eyes. "That slime ball sure has some nerve."

Allura gave Lance a grateful smile before taking her seat in the booth.

Nervously wringing her hands she stared out into the area at the men who had gathered to try their luck at winning the Tournament. Some were young, some where old. It seemed like every unattached nobles' son was there as well as a good portion of the merchant and the peasant men. The vast majority didn't look like they had any chance.

Coran heaved himself to his feet and let out a resigned sigh. "It's time for me to do my part as the designated host of this event."

He gave Lance an appraising look. "Keep the Princess safe and all potential suitors and nobles away. Lieutenant Moolar and Lieutenant Bardor of the Castle Guard are at the door for added protection."

The advisor turned to address the ladies. "There are known Castle servants waiting outside the door to fetch anything that you need. Do not accept anything from anyone you do not know."

Smiling, Coran stepped forward and grabbed one of Allura's hands. "Please have faith, Princess."

With one more nod to Lance, Coran left to perform his own duties.

 **o-o-o-o-o**

The arena itself was cordoned off into eight separate sections for the first part of the Tournament. The men would be randomly assigned to a section and when the signal was given, it would be a free for all in each section until only one remained to go on to the finals.

As Allura, Orla, and Lance sat watching, a signal was given and the men were hurried into their designated spots.

Silence fell over the Tournament grounds.

Then Coran's gentle commanding voice was heard. "On behalf of the High Council I'd like to welcome you all to this grand Tournament. As you know, there is much as stake today, for the winner shall receive Princess Allura's hand in marriage."

Shouts and cheers rang out around the area, drowning out any other sounds.

Coran waited for it to die down before resuming his speech. "I'd like to thank all of the gallant men here today. Remember there are no weapons allowed in the preliminary round. May the best man win."

At his signal there were many shouts as the preliminary round began.

What happened next can only be described as chaos as limbs and bodies moved and struck. An arm here, a knee there. Thumps as bodies hit the mat unconscious or were knocked from the rings. Finally the candidates dwindled in each section until only one remained.

A large, grizzled man stood in the first ring. He leered out at the others remaining. The second ring held a son of one of the lesser Council members, oozing confidence after his win. The third held Timpel, his nose wrinkled in disgust at his fellow competitors. The next three rings held sons of lesser nobility, their heads held high in their victories. The seventh ring held a slim fighter, dressed in black from head to foot, his expression hidden behind a mask. The final ring held one of the younger of the Castle Guards looking confident in his chances.

As he made his way back to the podium, Coran looked over those fighters left, eyes lingering for a moment. He gestured at the medics removing those laying still to receive medical assistance. "Let us give a round of cheers to those who have fallen. The next round will begin after the fighting rings have been rearranged."

The winners we lead away to separate rooms to await the next round of the Tournament.

 **o-o-o-o-o**

Queen Orla gazed out over the grounds with great sadness before turning towards her niece. "I'm so sorry, Allura. I just wish there was some way to make things right."

Lance nodded from where he was leaning against the wall. "If there was something I could do to get rid of the lot of them, I'd do it."

Allura turned towards the pilot. "Why didn't you enter? I know all of you are very competent fighters. It wouldn't have been ideal for me, but I could have accepted one of you."

Looking away with a blush on his face, Lance took a moment to answer. "Well, you see Princess, most of us have girlfriends."

He risked a glance at her and sheepishly rubbed the back of his head. "It's not that I don't like you, but I love you like a sister. It would feel kind of awkward."

With a sad look, Allura gave him a small smile. "Is it the same for the other guys?"

He nodded. "Yeah, Hunk is really serious with his girl. I expect him to ask her to marry him any day. Pidge has a girl in the village he's been seeing. They've really hit it off."

Allura tilted her head in thought, then dared to ask about the one she really wanted to know. "What about Keith?"

Lance gave a half smile. "I don't know about Keith. He's not seeing anyone, but after he heard about the Tournament he's been cold and distant."

He pushed off the wall and moved closer so he could lower his voice. "I know he really cares about you, Princess. He's just been afraid to show it. He feels he's a lowly pilot and that you're way out of his reach. This whole thing has probably been tearing him up inside. I'm not really surprised he took a duty where he didn't have to come and see it."

Grabbing her shoulder he gave it a gentle squeeze. "I know you have feelings for him, too. I'm pretty perceptive. I just wish you two could have told each other and come to some understanding before this fiasco took place."

As tears formed in her eyes, Allura whispered in a small voice. "Me too, Lance, me too."

Orla held her as she tried to regain her composure.

 **o-o-o-o-o**

A sudden chime of bells signaled the completion of the new fighting rings and the eight remaining men were lead out into the arena.

The men were paired off with the next consecutive competitor and moved to opposite sides of their rings to await the signal to begin.

Coran strode to the podium to announce the start of the next round. His movement drew the crowds attention and a hush finally fell.

He bowed his head once towards the Princess' seat before he spoke. "Swords are the only weapons allowed in the next fights. Hand to hand fighting is allowed as well. Please keep it clean gentlemen and remember that killing your opponent will disqualify you."

He looked over the fighters as attendants offered swords of equal quality to men. Once all were armed and settled he waved his arm. "You may begin."

The fight in the first ring was almost a blood bath as the grizzled man used his size and skill to his advantage against his less experienced opponent. The younger man made a few small attempts to strike, missing his target before the sword came down next to his collarbone, cleaving into his shoulder. Crying out in pain, he attempted to stop the flow of blood with his fingers. He staggered towards the edge of the ring and the waiting medics who rushed him to help. The grizzled man gave an oily smile to the crowd at his victory.

In the second ring, the fight was more of an even match between Timpel and another noble son. They fenced on for several long minutes before Timpel managed to disarm his opponent, forcing him to yield in defeat. Timpel made a sweeping bow towards where Allura sat.

The third ring held two nobles' sons who fought almost to a draw. It looked like their fight might go on a long while until one slipped on his parry, allowing the others sword to slide off his and bite into his hand. Dropping his weapon, he grabbed the wound tight. Bowing in defeat he moved out of the ring, allowing the winner to raise his hands in victory.

The battle in the fourth ring was fairly quick and decisive. As the guard moved to attack his masked foe, the black clad man moved swiftly under the blade and brought own sword up butt first and hard into the guards chin. Jaws slamming together and impacting a nerve, the guard slumped down unconscious. Medics moved in to check the vitals of the fallen man before declaring him fine and motioning towards the winner. The man just stood there, quiet in his victory and waited for the next round.

Coran raised a hand to bring silence to the arena once again before he spoke. "These four fine gentlemen will be advancing to the next round. We will give them a few extra minutes to recover after the workers have rearranged the Tournament rings once again."

The four men were lead back to their waiting rooms to sit in peace.

 **o-o-o-o-o**

Fifteen minutes had passed since the workers had finished realigning the rings down to two. Coran watched as the first of the fighters was lead back into the arena before making his own way back to the podium.

This time the fighters were not placed in order. Timpel was fighting the other noble's son. The grizzled man was fighting the masked one.

As the last man was settled in his place Coran spoke. "We are about to begin the semi-finals. Again, swords and hand to hand are the only combat allowed."

He nodded towards both rings. "Begin."

Timpel again had little difficulty with his opponent, dominating the fight. His aggression slowly pushed his foe back to the edge of the ring where his foot slipped and he fell backwards out of bounds. With a smug look at his opponent's clumsiness, Timpel waved towards the crowd.

The fight in the other ring was much slower as the black dressed man made several feints, testing his opponent for a weak spot. The grizzled man let out a growl and lunged forward wildly, his sword narrowly missing the masked man. Taking advantage of the over extension of the move, the masked man moved his own weapon, disarming his opponent. Bodies now inches apart, the grizzled man stomped his foot in what appeared to be frustration before bringing the knee of the same leg up and into the other man's gut. The masked man let out a strangled cry and stumbled back, clutching his stomach. The grizzled man retrieved his sword and moved to swing down at his opponent. The masked man dodged to the side, then moved swiftly to swing his sword hand at the other man's face, using the guard of the weapon as an improvised brass knuckle. First one punch, then another and finally the grizzled man went down in a daze.

As the medics rushed to check the fallen man, the black clad one stumbled back, blood dripping from between the fingers that held his stomach and onto the area floor. Seeing the splattering of red, one of the medics moved to check him, hissing at the sight of the gash. The medic gave the masked man a questioning gaze and was answered with a gesture towards the grizzled man's knee. There, glinting in the sun and stained red with blood was a punch blade.

One of the attendants moved to speak with Coran as the masked man was led towards the medical bay.

Worry creased the advisor's face as he watched the black clad back disappear into the building. Pushing it down the best he could, he turned back to the podium to address the audience. "We are down to two men left."

He gestured towards where the medics by the grizzled man who were now joined by guards. "It seems that not only was this man defeated, he was also disqualified for use of a hidden unauthorized weapon. We will await word from the medics for the condition of the masked fighter before we continue on to the last round."

Coran made his way back to his seat, fingers gripping his cane tight in worry.

 **o-o-o-o-o**

Dr Gorma hurried into the room where he'd been told a patient was waiting. Seeing the figure dressed all in black, the doctor turned and ushered out all medics but his personal assistant.

With a grimace he looked over the man. "I see you couldn't get through this unscathed."

He received a shrug in reply.

The doctor sighed and waved at the man. "Take off your shirt. I need to see how bad it is."

The article of clothing was pulled off over the mask and tossed to the floor, revealing a scarred chest.

Recognizing the pattern of scars, the assistant sucked in a breath but was quickly hushed by Dr Gorma. "Silence. No one is to know who he is. We don't know who may be listening at the door."

The assistant nodded before gathering supplies to tend the wound.

After careful examination, Dr Gorma stood from where he'd been prodding at the puncture. "Well you're lucky. Nothing vital was hit. I'd recommend not doing anything strenuous to aggravate the wound until it's fully healed, but knowing you, you will insist on finishing this Tournament."

The doctor waited and received a nod before continuing. "In that case I'll put in a few temporary stitches and give you a shot to numb the area. Try not to get hit there in the last fight."

Turning to his assistant, the doctor spoke. "Nanny is down the hall organizing everything. Tell her we need another shirt right away. She'll know what to bring."

The assistant nodded and slipped out the door as the doctor began numbing up his patient.

The last stitch was being tied off when the assistant knocked and announced himself before sliding back into the room. He handed the fresh black shirt to the masked man who pulled it over his head and carefully tucked it in.

Dr Gorma moved towards the door. "I'll tell them you're clear to fight."

 **o-o-o-o-o**

A single section of ring stood waiting the final fight.

Timpel was pacing around the arena, playing to the crowd. He was confident in his win. He'd seen the blood and knew it was unlikely his opponent would even show. He leered towards the Princess, offering a promise of what was to come.

So it was that Timpel was surprised when the masked man returned to the arena accompanied by Dr Gorma. As the doctor spoke to Coran, the masked man quietly got into his position in the ring.

The advisor gave the doctor a nod then impatiently gestured for Timpel to get in place.

As Coran spoke to the audience, relief tinged his voice. "Well it seems that both of the gentlemen are in well enough fighting condition to continue on. I'm sure we all cannot wait to see who our future King will be."

He bowed to both men. "You may begin."

Timpel swung his sword like a true fencer, attempting to pierce the flesh of his opponent. He was not expecting the masked man to respond as a sword fighter. Timpel barely held back the stinging blows that connected with his sword. The masked man fought as a veteran of many life or death sword battles. Quickly overpowering his opponent with skill, the masked man disarmed the noble. Timpel moved to kick the stomach wound of his foe, only to be blocked by a knee. Sword tip carefully placed at Timpel's neck, the masked man forced his opponent to his knees. Knowing he was far outmatched, Timpel conceded his defeat. The sword was withdrawn and planted firmly in the ground.

The crowd erupted into cheers and screams at the decisiveness of the match.

Coran's face held a knowing smile as he made his way to the podium once again. He raised his hand to silence the crowd. Once they quieted he spoke. "We have our winner."

He bowed deeply to the royal booth. "Will Princess Allura please grace us with her presence?"

The silence was filled with anticipation as the Princess made her way towards the podium accompanied by Queen Orla and Lance. The two stopped several feet back allowing several feet between them and the Princess.

Coran himself led the masked man before the Princess, a small smirk gracing his face.

Allura gave her advisor a questioning look, then took in a startled breath as the masked man dropped to his knee before her and bowed his head. Just as he reached for her hand, Lord Argos came storming up to the podium.

Huffing with indignity, the man was red faced in anger. "I demand you stop this farce. There is no way this man could have legally beaten my son!"

Coran regarded him coolly. "Are you saying that there is no way your inexperienced son could have lost to a warrior with many years of experience?"

Argos gave a snort. "We don't even know who this man is. You speak as if you know him personally."

A wide smile crept across the advisor's face. "I know how you had the matches arranged to give your son an advantage. I know how you sought to subvert tradition in an attempt to get your son named King."

The glare Argos leveled at Coran was deadly. The advisor raised his hand to cut off the lord before he could speak. He moved his hand towards the masked fighter. "Yes, I do know him. To prevent sabotage he was given the anonymity of a mask. He has proven time and again that he's willing to fight to the death for both Arus and the Princess."

Lance let out a startled gasp and Allura had a cry of joy at the words.

Argos sneered at Coran. "Well I hope the people know they have you to blame for their new King."

Allura gave the lord a glance of disgust before refocusing her attention to the man kneeling in front of her. Her voice was laced with happiness when she spoke. "I'm quite sure the people will be thrilled with their new King."

She leaned forward and undid the knot holding the man's mask in place. She spoke as she let the fabric fall from his face. "Isn't that right Commander Keith?"

Keith looked up at her with a smile. "Anything you wish my Princess."

The crowd erupted into applause as the identity of the masked fighter was revealed to them. Tears of joy fell from many faces as the worry of an uncertain future dissipated. Their future was bright with the man who led them to victory over Doom as their King.

Lord Argos took a step back in horror. With difficulty he pulled himself together then turned and marched off into the crowd that was beginning to swarm into the area.

A terrifying bellow signaled the arrival of Nanny. People scattered before her as she made her way up next to the Princess. "Well don't keep him kneeling in the dirt there, Princess! He's been wounded."

Keith chuckled at the governess. "I'm alright, Nanny."

He regretted drawing attention to himself when she whirled on him. "No you're not, young man! I about fainted when I saw the amount of blood on your shirt. Now get up. Dr Gorma needs to properly dress that instead of just a field dressing."

Allura's brows furrowed in concern. "You're hurt bad, Keith?"

He shook his head to the negative as he stood. "I'll be fine. Nothing vital was hit."

Keith nodded his head towards the waiting crowd. "I do believe there is a ceremony to complete."

Face flushing, Allura looked to the ground. "I'm not actually sure what I'm supposed to do next."

Keith gave a wicked grin before cupping her chin and forcing her to look at him. "I think this will do."

He leaned down and kissed her softly on the lips, drawing renewed cheers from the crowd.

Resting his forehead against hers he spoke. "I love you Allura. I have since the first day I kneeled before you. I would have fought for any chance to be with you."

She slipped her arms up and around his neck. "I love you too, my handsome Keith. I will always have faith in you."

They leaned in for another kiss, oblivious to the cheering crowd and the movements around them.


End file.
